Not Today
by miss.SunFlower
Summary: Eventually, Mr. Gold would get used to the not so rare occurrence of people breaking into his home. Today was not that day. Rumbelle drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

More Skin Deep feelings. More drabble.

I also know the Belle breaking in storyline has been used. But I like it. So here it is again.

Enjoy!

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><p>Eventually, Mr. Gold would get used to the not so rare occurrence of people breaking into his home.<p>

This night, a rainy evening in early march, was _not_ that night.

The girl, his unexpected houseguest, stared at him, wide eyed, like a fox caught in the headlights, with stringy wet hair falling into her face. Dressed in a hospital gown, barely past her knees. Bare feet. But it was her. It was definitely her. The pale blue – frightened – eyes, the set of her jaw, even as she stood shaking. Belle stood, soaking wet in his house, and Gold couldn't breathe.

She spoke before he could, "I'm- I'm sorry. I needed- I should go, I know I sh- I-. I need- please-"

Her voice was the same, though he'd never heard it shake quite like that. So he'd shut the door behind her and ushered her inside. The questions, the countless burning questions that whirled in his mind, could be answered later. Now, she was alive. And that was what mattered.

Once calm, Belle spoke of what she knew. Which was little. As far as her memories went she was in a cell. For all she was aware, she could have been born there. Gold wondered how he should feel that she did not have her past memories. In the end he was glad; those who regained them didn't last long, it seemed. Only the Queen's – quite rational – fear of him kept him from suffering the same fate.

The Queen was the only one Belle knew. Though to her she was 'the woman who checked on her'. Made sure she was well, eating, sleeping. That sort of thing.

Of course. Belle was no bargaining chip if she was dead.

And by some miracle, she'd run away and wound up at his door.

She was no bargaining chip when she was in his protection.

In the meantime, evidence of a secret asylum would keep the Sheriff occupied, as well as add fuel to that fire between her and the Queen. He would have to see Miss Swan about that in the morning.

Belle settled down even more when he promised her he would not send her away, not for a while. She didn't ask for his name, but only because she seemed entirely too exhausted. He wondered how she got out. How far the asylum was from his home. Why she'd been drawn here of all places. How he had not learnt of all of this sooner.

She was awake long enough to tell him, indicating a hospital bracelet on her wrist; "This says my name is Bridget French."

Bridget. It meant strong. Brave. It suited her even more than beauty did. And French explained why her father – who until this point Gold hadn't known had a daughter in this world – didn't deny his earlier, er, accusations. Not that he'd been in a position to deny them.

"Lovely name. Suits you."

"Thank you."

And then she slept. There, on a small, uncomfortable looking chair. He watched her for a moment, and shook his head, knowing with all that had happened that he would not be sleeping that night.

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><p>The next morning Sheriff Emma Swan would arrive, having once again received news that Mr. Gold's home had been broken into.<p>

She'd think that, eventually, she would stop being surprised by the strange occurrences that surrounded this very strange man.

Then she'd be let in, to find a young woman wrapped in about three blankets, drinking tea in a small reading chair and decide today was _not_ that day.

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><p>Just a bit of drabbley fun without all the complicated questions. I'm not good at those. I'm good at fluff.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

So now it's Drabble is a plot. Still drabble though. I like drabble.

Enjoy and review. ;)

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><p>"Mr. Gold, what is a young woman doing in your house at… 7 in the morning?" Emma Swan asked in a deceptively quite tone, having at once dragged the man into another room where said young woman could not hear.<p>

Eventually, she would stop being bothered by his guarded expression, and smirks that didn't touch his eyes. Looks that spoke of pain too long buried.

He smirked then, at her scandalized tone. Today was not that day.

But before she could think further on this strange behavior, Gold was answering her. "The break-in appears to have been a run-away," he said smoothly. "She's harmless. Her name is Bridget French – "

"The florist's daughter?" Emma couldn't help but asking. Gold's face stiffened and she remembered his violent reaction toward his last robbery… by this girl's father. Was this the girl that Mr. French had been accused of 'hurting'? Where'd she run from?

"If you want to know that, ask her yourself." Gold said, and Emma realized she'd spoken out loud. "She doesn't remember much, she's had a rough time."

Skepticism warred with mild fear of him. Skepticism won. "And so she came here?" His face stiffened further. "Do you know her?"

"Sheriff, I believe she's the one you ought to be interrogating. Her reasons are as mystery to me as they are to you."

She gave him a long look, but he seemed to be telling the truth. She threw her hands up with exasperation, "Alright, alright."

Bridget looked up from her tea with a small smile, "You're the sheriff?"

"I am. You're Bridget French."

"So I'm told."

That was an odd way to say it, "Do you remember different?"

She let the smile fall, "I remember nothing."

Amnesia. First David, now her. What would Henry think of this? "Nothing?"

"I remember my cell."

"Tell me about it…" She prompted gently.

And so the girl told of a jail cell that wasn't a jail cell. A cell for sick people, but not a hospital room. She appeared perfectly healthy, aside from being frightened and desiring freedom.

"What are you going to do with me?" Bridget asked, curiously not frightened.

"Well, I'm going to have a talk with the mayor about your… previous situation. However, we ought to take you somewhere," she added as an afterthought. "Can't just leave you here."

"You can't?"

She clearly didn't know Mr. Gold, then, if she was perfectly willing to stay in his company. But Emma didn't say that. "Dressed like that? No. I'll take you to my friend, Mary-Margaret's. I'm sure some of her things will fit you. Then we can talk about what you want to do, now that you've rejoined the world of the living."

Bridget chuckled a little, "I'd like that." She glanced over her shoulder, toward the room where Gold was. Listening, no doubt. He seemed far too interested in her, and people he took interest in tended to end up in dangerous situations. The sooner Bridget was at Mary-Margaret's, the better.

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><p>And Bridget went to Mary-Margaret's and was instantly charmed by the woman's gentle character. She got a loose rose-colored shirt and khakis, along with a pair of grey flats and, with hair combed and pulled back, was declared a beauty.<p>

But she hardly paid attention to her reflection, busy thinking of the man who's home she'd stumbled into. On his dark eyes, and rough voice and the unmistakable familiarity she had felt in his presence. Eventually she'd have to ask someone about him. But not today.

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><p>More drabble-y goodness to keep us going while waiting for 'Dreamy' and the reappearance of our Belle.<p>

Also, I do plan to add to this, now that I've thought of some plot-y goodness. If you review it'll come faster. ;) :P


	3. Chapter 3

More plot-infused drabbles. Keeping it drabble length for light and fluffy-ness. I'm good at that.

However, important things happen here...

Enjoy!

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><p>Bridget French tried to take everything in stride. And was fairly successful – all things considered.<p>

All the same, she felt entirely more comfortable with Mary-Margaret, Emma, and Ruby than with anyone else. They seemed more interested in her future rather than her past. And not having a past was easier when people didn't ask about it.

The other person she was comfortable with was Emma's son – well, birth son – Henry. Some days, his open nature made her want to share about her confusion regarding this place – this place that felt real yet surreal. Like a curtain, nailed over the truth.

The day he asked her about her first night out of the asylum was, in fact, one of those days.

"Why did you run to Mr. Gold's place?" he asked with rapt interest, one afternoon at Granny's. He'd come with Emma but had quickly moved to speak to her.

"Is that his name, then?" she said. No one had told her. No one had mentioned him at all since two days prior, when Sheriff Swan had taken her into her custody. She hadn't even seen him.

Henry shrugged, "That's what we call him, yeah."

Bridget thought about it, "It had felt… I don't know how to say it, Henry, I thought it looked safe." She remembered the big house, in the dark rainy night. "Like a castle, or a fortress. If I got in there, no one would hurt me or take me back."

"Well, no one crosses Mr. Gold, so I suppose no one would hurt you if he were to protect you." He made a face, as though Mr. Gold and protection were not things that went hand in hand.

Bridget laughed a little, "Well, then I'm glad I came across him." He _had_ protected her, after all.

Henry shrugged again, "Oh, Emma said you were looking for a job. Are you?"

"I need something to do. Why – seems you're a bit young for a boss…"

He grinned, "The library is re-opening this weekend!" He said triumphantly.

"I didn't know Storybrooke had a library!"

"It didn't – well, it was _always_ closed. But I heard Mr. Gold is reopening it."

"Mr. Gold?" Bridget asked.

"He owns it."

"_Oh_."

The boy frowned a little, "He's so confusing." He muttered to himself.

She smiled, "People are rarely simple." She paused, a question forming in her mind from who-knew-where "Do you know where Mr. Gold would be?"

Henry looked startled, "His shop probably… across the street and down a block or so." He pointed. Bridget hopped to her feet. "Bridg! Where are you going?"

"First refuge, now a job – I want to thank him!" Bridget said brightly, leaving the shocked child behind her.

She didn't understand what made this man so frightening, nor why she felt drawn to speak to him. But she intended to find out.

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><p>Gold stood in his shop, turning a chipped teacup over in his hands. It was a habit he'd taken to, given recent events. It helped clear his head from all the confusion, joy and pain that having Belle in his life again gave him.<p>

He planned to speak to her, someday. Ask her, casually, how she was settling in.

He did not expect it to be today, that she'd come straight through the shop door, smiling, looking so much like the girl who had been haunting his dreams and nightmares for years.

And so, in his utter surprise, Gold's hands slipped.

And a small porcelain teacup went crashing to the floor.

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><p>Yes. I did stop there. ;)<p>

I am enjoying writing Bridget!Belle.


	4. Chapter 4

More tonight! I must love you all very much. Really I just needed to get this scene done.

Enjoy!

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><p>Bridget stared helplessly at the jagged pieces of porcelain that had been a teacup only seconds ago, trying not to feel heartbroken and wondering why she did.<p>

She finally managed to whisper, not able to look at the man, "I'm am- sorry. I really- I'm so sorry." She was making a rather large deal over a cup and she knew it. But something about it. It seemed _precious_.

The man, Mr. Gold seemed to be released from his own paralysis by her words, "Nonsense. You're not the one who broke it, dear."

She looked up, to find him watching her carefully, his expression closed.

"I startled you," she argued, "if I hadn't- I'm really sorry."

"Yes, so you've said." He replied, sounding amused rather than annoyed by that. Bridget studied him as carefully as he had her. No, he didn't look angry with her, but there was a depth of sorrow in his eyes. Was it from the cup, she wondered, or did that hidden pain always exist there? And did she know him – or did he look at everyone so… _piercingly_?

She pushed those thoughts away. "If there's anything I can do... I'll- I'll pay for it."

He laughed now, a dry short chuckle, "And where are you expecting to get that money, Ms. French?" She opened her mouth but he cut her off firmly, "No. It's not something that can be… replaced."

So it _was_ sentimental. Bridget felt wretched.

He must have noticed, suddenly he looked at her a different way. A kind of calculating look, and a gleam of interest in those eyes. It made him look even more… familiar. She'd seen that look before – but she couldn't say where or when.

"I'll tell you what," he said slowly, "I'll make you a deal."

Bridget cocked an eyebrow, meanwhile wondering at the phrase that tugged in her mind. "A… deal?"

"Yes. I'm sure you've heard I'm quite fond of them." She hadn't, but it made sense from what she was coming to learn. "I'll forgive you for this," a gesture toward the shattered cup. "If you fix it."

"_Fix_ it?" Bridget nearly squeaked with dismay. The pieces weren't all that small, when she looked at them, but still. "But-"

He grinned and she cut herself off, for as wolfish as the grin was it was the least guarded she'd seen Mr. Gold since she'd met him. Bridget could only stare.

"I wasn't finished, dear," he continued, still with that crooked grin, "Seeing as this object is quite… precious, you'll forgive me if I don't trust you to take it with you…" Was he _teasing_ her? "No, you'd fix it here. Now, I don't expect it one day. Just, work on it whenever… oh, whenever you're not at the library." He laughed again.

She looked at him then down at the pieces, then back. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Deal."

The smile twitched, then widened. "Grand,"

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><p>Mr. Gold stooped to gather the pieces, and Belle moved to help him. "Now that we've settled that, was there something you needed, Ms. French?" He asked carefully.<p>

She straightened, looking momentarily lost. "Oh. Well, I just wanted to thank you. For helping me that night."

As she handed him the pieces of the teacup that held so much meaning between them – meaning she'd never know – he nearly dropped them again. If she was going to be in his shop every couple of days he was really going to have to learn to get used to her presence in his life again.

He muttered some polite response and she smiled brightly, making his heart stutter. He was going to get used to her. But not today.

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><p>Mmm. Yes. Deals.<p>

Review, dearies, and more will come!


	5. Chapter 5

Updating instead of homework. Yippee!

Enjoy!

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><p>Gold struggled to behave naturally in her presence. Struggled to grow accustomed to finding Belle in the back room of his shop, giving the pieces a determined glare as if that alone would put the cup together. It was hard, as hard as it had been to get used to her a lifetime ago, when she was a merchant-princess and his little housekeeper.<p>

Every day it got a little easier, though, as it had back then. He helped her on occasion, forgetting what other responsibilities he might have. She was more important.

"I'm hardly fixing this if you're always helping me," She complained once, when he'd corrected her on where a certain piece fit.

"You're hardly fixing it if it's wrong," he returned. She made a face at him, and he felt his face relax into an uncharacteristic smile. Belle had that affect, no matter the world.

"You have a good eye," she added.

He sat down beside her, picking up another shard and turning it over, "I've always liked small details," he said carefully. "Subtleties, nuances. They make things interesting." Belle nodded and they slipped back into comfortable silence.

Then she'd come in, a week after the incident, smiling broadly, in a pale blue dress over a white t-shirt. Looking exactly like his Belle from forever ago, and Gold would feel his heart stop momentarily. Yes, it was going to be a long time before he was _truly_ comfortable around her. He'd never been truly comfortable around her. He'd shut her out before they'd had that chance.

"What's got you in such high spirits?" He inquired as she set her bag on his counter and made her way to the back room.

She shrugged, settling down to a partially re-formed teacup and the remaining puzzle of porcelain. "Good day at work."

"You like the library, then?"

"Oh, I love it. I've never seen so many books in all my life."

He thought about her life, here. "I imagine you haven't," he muttered.

"Do you read, Mr. Gold?" She asked.

Gold shook his head, smiling a bitter sort of smile. "Not so obsessively as you, dear."

Belle laughed, "Well, what do you do, then? When you're not here?"

"Nosy one, aren't you?"

More laughter, the kind that crinkled her nose and made her the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on. "Hm. I can't help being curious, you know. I _could_ be asking you about this cup."

His face stiffened, and Belle seemed to find triumph in that. "I know it's special for a reason," she said in a softer voice, "but I figured you wouldn't want to talk about that…"

Gold watched her, as she looked back at what cup there currently was, her expression pensive. She was a puzzle to him, always had been, and always would be. "I don't do much, on my own," he released at last, "Sometimes, I wish I did. I have far too much time to think about things I'd rather forget."

He waited for a 'what things' but it didn't come. Belle was still looking at the cup, then finally stole a glance at him.

"I'll have to bring you some books, then."

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><p>"Would you look at that," Ruby murmured under her breath, re-filling Emma's cup of coffee.<p>

"Look at what?" She asked.

"This is the third time this week Bridget's been coming by this way." She gestured with the pot toward where Bridget walked, a small stack of books in hand. "The only place down that way would be Mr. Gold's."

Emma frowned, resolving again to warn the girl about Mr. Gold. But the smile on her face, visible even from that distance, gave her pause. Maybe she wouldn't warn her… _just_ yet.

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><p>Oh, incase you haven't realized yet. I like fluff. ;) Expect some.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	6. Chapter 6

More drabble for the weekend!

Enjoy!

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><p>It soon became apparent that Emma was not the only one who desired to speak to Bridget, as Emma herself found out when she entered the Storybrook Library to find Mayor Mills talking to the young librarian in what appeared to be a casual manor. But by the hard look in Bridget's eyes and the slight flush of her cheeks it was clear they weren't swapping recipes.<p>

"Madam Mayor, you're holding up the line." Emma cut in, and was pleased to see Regina start at the interruption. "If you need to speak to Bridget, it can wait until after her shift. You are always on people about _doing their jobs_."

That got a satisfying glare from her, but she moved away, giving Bridget a false smile, "Think over what I said, alright?" She told the girl meaningfully before turning on her heal and leaving.

Bridget glared after her, then sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"What'd she say?"

"That I… ought to be careful who I make friends with. That there were people here who might pretend to care about me – but don't." She rolled her eyes. "She thinks my amnesia has made it so I can't judge character."

Emma sighed, "She's like that. Besides, she hates anyone making friends with me."

Bridget blinked. "Oh. I figured that she was talking about Mr. Gold. But, yeah, she could have meant you." She added quickly.

So Regina noticed their… relationship – whatever that relationship might be – and didn't like it. Her own worry for her new friend's safety warred with the desire to encourage something the Mayor hated.

"So, what _is_ up with that?" She asked, unable to help herself, "Mr. Gold hardly seems anyone's first choice for companionship."

"I'm… helping him with something."

Emma was instantly suspicious, "why?"

She laughed, "Do I need a reason? Why is it you all don't like him?"

"Don't dislike, more… don't trust," Emma explained carefully. "Do you not remember him at all?"

"From when? I don't even know how long I was in that ward. You looked for records, remember? Father doesn't even seem to know…" she trailed off, a lost look suddenly on her face, reminiscent of when Emma first met her.

"I'm sorry-"

"No," Bridget cut off, shaking her head as though to clear it, "It's fine. You're worried about me. It was different with the- the mayor; she was trying to make me do what she wanted. I could tell. Like I said, I can judge character."

"Well, you got her down perfect," Emma told her, grinning. "For the record, if you want to be, er, friends with Mr. Gold, go right ahead. I'll just watch with a constant expression of bafflement."

She laughed a little, "I suppose we are friends," she said, more to herself. "Something like that at least…" She fell silent, obviously mulling over what appeared to be brand new information for her.

Emma had seen dysfunctional relationships – Regina and Graham came to mind – and it was enough for her to know whatever Bridget felt toward the man was nothing destructive. Someday, perhaps it wouldn't be so confusing.

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><p>Bridget's thoughts were thoroughly muddled. Twice today she'd had her relationship with Mr. Gold looked on from an outside party. Twice, she took a step back and looked at it herself.<p>

Yes, she felt close to him. She was comfortable alone with him. She enjoyed making him smile. She sometimes had the inexplicable desire to smooth the lines of tension off his face. And she didn't like being apart from him for long.

He was a puzzle to her, as much as the cup she was piecing together. And it wasn't going to just solve itself. Not today.

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><p>I don't know how long I want to draw out Bridget's confuddled Mr. Gold feelings before I get to my climactic scene... but it will be a few more updates yet.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	7. Chapter 7

Look! Updates! (A wee bit longer too! :D)

Enjoy!

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><p>Emma found Henry in the back of the spacious library, his head buried in his fairytale book as though reading it for the first time. Since it had been returned to him, the boy hoarded the book even closer than before, and spent a great deal of time reading it at the newly opened library.<p>

"Here you are! I thought you'd be up with your mom, making sheep's eyes at Ms. French," she teased, having come to believe that Henry's real reason for frequenting the place was a little crush on the pretty librarian. Henry did indeed blush, but shook his head, scowling at the page. Emma rolled her eyes. "What's eatin' you, kid?"

"Mr. Gold."

Emma blinked, "Gold do something to you?"

He shook his head again, "Not to me… it's Bridget."

She bit back a laugh, knowing he didn't like being laughed at. "You're not jealous that Bridget's spending all her time with Gold, are you?" For a while, Bridget would talk to Henry whenever she was free, always smiling and happy to have someone who didn't wonder and worry about her time in a mental asylum.

"It's not that- Mr. Gold just- he doesn't have friends, Emma! You know what he's like."

"Well, maybe he's different around her," Emma said, unconvincingly. It was hard to convince someone why a pretty young thing like Bridget would desire Gold's friendship, when she wasn't sure why either. He, himself, knew he wasn't much company. _I'm a difficult man to love_. She glanced down at the book then toward where Bridget stood behind her counter, reading. "Who is she, then, in here?" She tapped the book.

Henry gave her an 'are you serious' look. "She's Belle. Obviously."

Emma laughed, "Oh, _excuse_ me for asking!"

He was too busy frowning at the book to respond to that and skipped ahead a few pages. "She's here. Talking to the dwarves that Snow White lived with. She'd just left the beast."

"Wait, it doesn't have when she was there? I thought this book had every fairytale in it?"

"Not every fairy_tale_, every fairytale _character_. The book focuses on your parents; Snow White and Prince Charming, and their story. Everyone is in here, but some for different reasons."

Emma frowned; that hardly seemed efficient. She paused, "Well, then, maybe Mr. Gold is the beast," she didn't know whether to laugh or shudder at the idea of Gold being a handsome prince on the inside.

Henry shook his head seriously, "He can't be. He's wicked… and powerful. He wouldn't be affected by such a _simple_ curse…" he trailed off, flipping back through the book again. Emma sighed, it was hard to talk to him when he was in studying mood.

Looking back toward Bridget, Emma was surprised to see the subject of their conversation suddenly present. What would Mr. Gold want at the library, she thought, though the answer was fairly obvious. She strained her ears, but couldn't make out a word before Bridget's laughter echoed over and caused Henry to look up and frown. Emma felt herself frowning, too. But she'd decided on no more warnings. Besides, she wasn't even sure what she'd say.

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><p>"You know, I could have just returned these later," Bridget pointed out, taking the two books she'd lent Mr. Gold on a whim. She didn't know if he'd read them or not, but he'd taken them.<p>

He grinned his usual crooked grin. She felt he'd smiled more at her in that past week than anyone else in the small town ever. "Oh, you would have read them again and they wouldn't have been checked in for weeks," he teased.

"Oh, I've read these twice."

"Your point, dear?"

Bridget laughed, "My point is that _you_ just came in here to see me sooner."

He chuckled, but didn't deny it. Simply informed her that during her shift it had started raining, and while he was here, with an umbrella, she might want an escort back to his shop when she got off.

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><p>I don't think Henry's book has all the storylines we see on the show, and definitely not Rumpels backstory. Just my headcanon there.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	8. Chapter 8

Longish updates! Huzzah!

Enjoy!

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><p>Belle was open in the emotions she showed, Gold found. Then again, she always had been.<p>

When she was happy – which, currently, was often – she would smile and laugh openly. She was always so full of expression and _life_ that it sometimes took his breath away; unable to grasp that she truly _was_ alive.

Two and a half weeks into their re-acquaintance and he still was not entirely used to her in his life again.

It was, however, Belle's rare moments of unhappiness where her resemblance to the caretaker he'd first fallen for knocked the air from his lungs. She once ventured a comment about Regina having talked to her about him and the old wounds opened so suddenly he found himself snapping at her. She took it in silence, until he told her she should go for the day. She stood, brushed her jeans off and gave him a hard look, identical to the way she'd looked at him the last time he had seen her face, the last time he had sent her away.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said very deliberately and left.

And he was irrationally relieved when she did.

She didn't mention Regina again, but it was several days before she settled back into what peace they had formed between themselves.

Gold sometimes wondered if this was fate's way of giving him a do-over, a chance to get it right. But that wasn't what he wanted – not quite. He didn't want a second chance from a Belle who didn't remember everything he had done to her. He didn't deserve her, then. If he was going to get a do-over, it had to be a proper one.

It was ridiculous, those thoughts, because they led him to long nights researching ways to return Belle's old memories. Ridiculous, and furthermore, dangerous. If Belle was simple Bridget, a girl indebted to him for breaking a piece of merchandise, she was still marginally safe.

"I feel I should start bringing you tea," Belle declared one afternoon. She hadn't been working on the cup that day; simply meandering the shop looking at the objects with a peace that made it seem as though _she_ owned the place.

"Why's that?" He asked.

"You need it."

"Do I?"

"That or more sleep, but I can hardly enforce the latter," she said cheerfully.

He raised his eyebrows. "Hardly."

She grinned at him, "Honestly, though, you look ready to pass out on your feet,"

_That's because I'm up all night working out how to save you, while wondering whether or not I should._ "Part of getting old, dearie."

"You're _hardly_ old," she said stubbornly. Before he could respond to that – not that he had anything particularly witty to say; Belle left him struggling for words more than he was at all comfortable with – she continued, "And am I _'dearie',_ now, too? Do I get to have a pet name for you?"

He tensed, trying not to show it and arouse her ever-present curiosity. 'Dearie' was his old nickname, but 'dearie' was what she had been for him, when she was not Belle. He couldn't call her Belle here. And he positively refused to call her Bridget.

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><p>There was a moment's silence, and then he gave her his ironic grin. "Call me whatever you wish, dearie. I'll answer to any hail from your voice." He said in purposely-flowery tones. Bridget raised an eyebrow but couldn't contain her giggles. He grinned wider, looking entirely pleased with himself.<p>

"Oh, I'm holding you to that!" She said when the giggles subsided. "Now I need to think of something truly awful."

He chuckled and waved her off to work on the cup that was, after all, her reason for coming – though she knew this was less and less the case. She went, but spent her thoughts, not on silly nicknames, but wondering if she had ever actually heard Gold call her by name.****

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><p>Aw fluff...ish.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry for the brief break. School sucks. Have more goodies!

Enjoy!

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><p>Not that that was the first time Gold had ever done something that baffled Bridget, or the first time he took up all her thoughts as she mucked through fixing a small trinket. A small trinket that Bridget sometimes felt was a part of her soul, and would sometimes just look at, hoping it might tell her why she had these thoughts. Sometimes she even spoke to it.<p>

She wondered if this was why she'd been in a mental ward.

When she wasn't worried about her mental health, Bridget thought about asking Gold if they did have a past together. She was growing steadily convinced that they _had_ to; he wouldn't look at her as he did if they didn't. She'd catch him watching her sometimes, his expression warm but distant and melancholy, like watching a lame animal that you loved anyways. She didn't understand it, but he was always looking at her like she wasn't quite _whole_ and he didn't know what to do with that. _She_ didn't know what to do with that, and it bothered her.

"Something fascinating about that piece?" Gold asked her, quietly teasing, as she'd been staring at a single shard of the cup for some time.

She jumped, shaken out of her thoughts, "No, I just- was just thinking, I guess. Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, dearie." He calls her that more often, now. She doesn't mind in the least. "The longer you take on that," a gesture to the cup – over half complete now, "the longer I get to keep you in my company."

They were_ flirting_, and Bridget knew it. Somehow it didn't strike her as strange or inappropriate at all, despite only knowing him a few weeks. No, had it _really_ only been a few weeks? It felt like months, lifetimes she'd known him. Thoughts like that gave her a dizzy feeling and so she tried to push them back.

"Oh, you don't think that this all that's keeping me in your company, do you?"

His small smile faded instantly. He watched her face carefully, his eyes dark with emotion. Unfortunately, she couldn't understand what this reaction possibly meant, so she simply stared back – vaguely conscious of how close they had been sitting.

She shook herself out of the staring contest, "Anyways, I don't think I'm going to be finishing anytime soon."

He nodded slowly. "Well, I'll let you get back to work then." And before she could protest, pushed himself from the table with more force than was probably necessary and went back into the main room of the shop, leaving Bridget to watch the entrance, confused. Confused and strangely hurt.

"What did I say?" She asked the broken cup in confusion. "I want to – to be around him, but he's so… _difficult_ about it. What am _I_ supposed to do? And why do I even care so much? About him? About you?"

The cup, as always, said nothing.

She gave a small humorous laugh, dropping one piece of porcelain to pick up another. "I'm crazy. I'm absolutely nuts."

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><p>Unbeknownst to her, Gold could hear Belle's quiet one-sided conversation, and held in a sigh.<p>

He didn't know what to do with her. He'd never expected to _have_ to know. He'd thought she was dead for so much of his life, he'd resigned himself to living without her. He hated himself for it, but he'd accepted that he would for the rest of eternity.

And now she was there, sitting in the other room, talking to their teacup. And she was still _Belle_, regardless of name and memories; she had the same stubbornness, the same passion, the same kindness to a man who had done nothing worthy of it, and he loved her now as strongly as he had then.

And it frightened him, as it had then.

But someday, _someday_, he might just overcome that.****

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><p>Aren't they just so cute? XD<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	10. Chapter 10

SUDDENLY LONG UPDATES. I want to keep these drabble length (under 1000 words) but as the plot continues they'll get longer and longer. By the end of this you'll probably be getting full length. XD like you're complaining, or anything.

Anyways! Enjoy!

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><p>Bridget still found time to talk to Henry when she wasn't occupied with her job or helping Mr. Gold. He was always at Mary-Margaret's, talking to Emma about his book or the people and places in the town. Emma seemed to take it all with an affectionate exasperation, and Mary-Margaret enjoyed the company.<p>

Bridget would ask the boy about school, about books and just about the normal parts of life. She didn't ask about The Book. She knew of it, but she didn't think it was any of her business.

Not today. Today, she decided it was. And so, that afternoon on the steps of the library Bridget ventured a question. "So, everything in this book... It's all here, now? Not just people, but… objects? If they were part of a story?"

Henry nodded, grinning. "Right."

She chose her next words with care, "Is there anything in there about a- a cup?"

He blinked. "A cup?"

"Yeah. It'd be… small. White with little blue flowers… like it was part of a tea set...?"

Henry looked at her carefully, than turned back to the book, flipping through it. "I've never read anything about a cup," he told her as he searched, apologetic and a bit confused. "Why?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head, "It's silly. There's just – I'm helping Mr. Gold fix this cup of his, and," she shook her head again, "I feel like I've seen it before. But it's probably just the illness."

"You're not ill!" Henry protested, "Archie says you're perfectly fine. You know you were never insane."

"I felt like I was, when I was there. Part of the curse, yeah?"

The boy nodded solemnly, and then lapsed into silence still searching the pages for her precious teacup. Bridget half wished she hadn't brought it up. She didn't_ really_ believe in Henry's curse, but if it offered _any_ explanation to her confusion she would take it.

"So the cup is Mr. Gold's?" Henry asked, frowning at the pages as he leafed through them.

"Yes." She paused. "It's… It's special for him, too, I think. Does that help? Who is he in there, anyways?"

Henry closed the book with a snap and looked at her. "I'm not sure you want to know."

Bridget was surprised into a laugh, "Now, I'm curious! Is he, what, a dragon?"

He snorted, but still watched her as if choosing his own words with care, "Well, he's no prince charming, Bridge."

She laughed again. "Well, I think that depends entirely on one's definition of prince charming." She said thoughtfully.

Henry said nothing, suddenly finding the book cover very interesting. Bridget studied him for a moment before she realized what she'd said.

"Oh, Henry. Gold and I are just friends, you know," she said, feeling her face heat up as she tried to explain in words what she couldn't work out in her head, "He took care of me, after I broke into his home, half out of my mind. He made sure Emma had a home for me, and that your mother wouldn't take me back. He's really not so bad if you knew him. He's kind and funny-"

"_Funny_?" Henry made a face, and she shrugged innocently.

"I think so, anyways." Bridget glanced at the clock, "Oh, speaking of! Henry, I gotta get going. Will you be at Emma and Mary-Margaret's after dinner?"

"Mom's got a meeting, so yeah. Probably."

She grinned, "Then I'll see you then, alright?"

He smiled back, "Alright, Bridge. See you then!"

"Tell me if you see that cup, too!" She added over her shoulder, setting off to her near-daily visit to her… friend. If that was, in fact, what he was to her.

* * *

><p>Henry's evening visits weren't new to Emma. She was entirely used to the kid coming over any time he could sneak past his mother. Nor was she surprised when he instantly inquired about Bridget's whereabouts.<p>

"She's still out. Will probably be back any second, now." Mary-Margaret piped in when Emma told him she wasn't home.

"You mean she's having _dinner_ with him?" Henry asked, thoroughly dismayed. "Emma, we gotta do something. Bridget's in _love_!"

The complete heartache on his face made her laugh in spite of herself. "So, she thinks he's an okay guy, that hardly makes her in love."

He shook his head, "I talked to her earlier. She's definitely in love. She thinks he's _funny._" She made a face at that idea and Henry nodded like he'd had the same reaction. "See?"

"Henry," Emma sighed, "I'm not going to 'do something' about this. Bridget's a grown woman, she can love whoever she wants."

"But-"

"And you can't tell me this is _'operation cobra'_ stuff, either. I know you're just jealous." He gave her something of a glare that was ruined by the blush on his cheeks. She grinned. "Go on, Mary-Margaret made cocoa."

As he went, still with a pout, Emma thought this over. Sure, she wasn't going to get in Bridget's way, but she'd need to talk to her all the same, just to see if she truly was in love.****

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><p>Not much in the way of BelleGold conversations, but those are coming... _oh those are coming_.

So enjoy some adorable jealous!Henry and the progression of Bridget!Belle's love.

Reviews = love. Always.


	11. Chapter 11

Nice and fluffy! Kinda like last nights episode!

Anyways! Enjoy!

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><p>Bridget didn't have dinner with Mr. Gold. Truth be told, they'd been too busy talking for the time and the need for food to have occurred to either of them.<p>

The teacup was nearly finished now, and Bridget found herself reluctant to finish it. She had, of course, pointed out to him that fixing it was no longer her sole reason to visit him. But she wasn't sure how to keep seeing him once she had it complete. Would it suddenly seem awkward? Would he be busy with other things, now that that had been dealt with? With their deal complete, would he still want her?

Ridiculous thoughts, those were, especially on nights like this one, where he watched her as she talked with a small smile on his lips, looking completely absorbed with her silly rambles.

And she did do most of the talking; comfortable or no, Gold was a quiet man. It made his moments of dry humor a pleasant surprise. She had meant it when she told Henry she thought he was funny. He had the sort of quirky humor that came through in short quips and teasing smirks that Bridget found appealed most to her.

That evening he'd somehow got her talking about her memories, what few she had. She hadn't touched the teacup – that whole reluctant thing – and didn't appear to care. She tried to recite what she remembered from the cell but when he asked beyond that she gave an exasperated sigh, shaking her head.

"What would you like me to say?" She said, slightly teasing, "'Oh right, I remember living with my father. I went Storybrooke public school. My favorite subject is English. My favorite color was gold, and I'm allergic to roses'?"

"…Are you?"

She laughed. Of all the responses, she didn't expect _that_ one. "I haven't smelt one since I've gotten here. I could be."

He shook his head, muttering something Bridget didn't bother catching. "Point is, I don't remember anything before I was in that ward – you can ask all you want. Personally, I think you just ask about me to avoid my asking about you."

"You _are_ a nosy one, dearie," he replied dryly.

"Only because you refuse to tell me anything!"

Now he laughed, "Alright. I'll give you one question."

"Why is this cup special?" Bridget asked before she could help herself. Watching his grin fade she could have kicked herself. She'd said she wouldn't ask about it!

But he was already answering her. "It's a keepsake. A memory of someone, well, let's just say someone special."

"Who?"

His lips twitched, "_One_ question, dearie."

She pouted, "Fine." A clock in the main room gave a loud clang, shattering the calm and quiet conversation. "It's… _oh_, it's 8:30! Oh, I was supposed to be at Mary-Margaret's _ages_ ago." She stood, and Gold stood with her. She'd lost track of time before, but never this bad. "Henry's not gonna be happy."

He chuckled, handing her her bag. He never asked her to stay longer when she needed to go. Merely watched her frantic gathering of things with an affectionate grin. "Henry?" He asked. "So, you're leaving me for a younger man, then?"

Bridget burst into giggles. "You are absolutely ridiculous. I'm leaving you for dinner, unless of course you want to provide me some?"

Gold gave her a long look, absently. "Maybe some other night."

And Bridget couldn't help but hope he meant that.

* * *

><p>"He's just upset because he likes you," Emma whispered to somewhat distraught Bridget upon seeing Henry sulking because of her lateness.<p>

"I know," she said. "I still feel bad. I lost track of time."

Emma watched her shovel another spoonful of spaghetti into her mouth. "I see that." The girl flushed a little. Emma paused before adding, "He also doesn't like people messing with, well, how he views people. And your relationship with a guy who never had a friend in this town until you showed up… it's thrown him. I don't think he knows what to do with it."

"Honestly, neither do I," Bridget answered, biting her lip before returning to her food. Leaving Emma to study her subtly, still unable to tell if she was in love, if she didn't know it herself.****

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><p>FLUFF. XD Also if you caught it; yes, I did quote The Music Man at the end.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	12. Chapter 12

Suddenly drama... sort of.

Enjoy!

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><p>Gold had a rose garden. Had as long as this town existed. He figured Her Majesty Regina had made sure of it as some sort of petty joke. She liked those. Sometimes she was capable of horrors. Other times she simply behaved like a child desperate to have the last laugh.<p>

Some days he was tempted to destroy the small bushes and all they reminded him of. Not today.

It was early morning and he simply left the budding flower at the door to the library. Belle would be the first one there. She would know.

Retreating to his own shop, it was only fitting with his earlier thoughts that he would indeed run into Mayor Regina. _Speak of the Devil_, and all that. She did have a habit of showing up where she was least wanted, when she was least wanted.

"You're opening early," she said, grinning in her most malicious way. "And here I thought I'd be waiting for you to show for hours."

He shrugged, making no attempt to push past her and enter his shop. This was a conversation he'd seen coming weeks ago, and there was no use avoiding it. "Patience… that's not usually the tact you take, dear."

"Well, I'm not patient enough to wait until you wind up in jail again just to have a talk with you. Besides, imagine how poor Ms. French would take your beating her father to near death again. How painful that would be for her."

He gripped his cane so tight he thought he might break it, struggling very hard not to beat her with it. It was _tempting_. "Yes, you'd know the pain in losing a father, wouldn't you?" He returned quietly.

Her wicked smile fell instantly into a glare. Gold wasn't sure he'd ever seen more hate in her eyes than he did then. He felt rather triumphant.

In her tense silence he continued, "However, we're talking so none of that will be necessary. Why now, anyways? I'm sure the gossip reached you long ago."

Regina had recovered ever so slightly. "Oh yes. That young Ms. French has been seen going and coming from your shop more often than can possibly be seemly. Really, I thought you'd be subtler, Rumpel. Try to keep her out of danger and all. Then again, she's always made you careless, hasn't she?"

"And what danger does she need kept out of, now?" He asked dryly.

The smile returned in full bone-chilling force. "She's still unstable, of course, mentally. She's recovering oh so well, but one mistake and it wouldn't be difficult at all to see her locked away again."

"Over my dead body."

"An attractive idea," Regina said smoothly, stepping out of the doorway. "Think on that." She added, before walking past at a brisk walk that was nothing short of a retreat. And wise of her; if she'd stayed much longer her wellbeing would have been at serious risk.

Gold stood there, staring at the entrance of the shop without really seeing it, half blind with rage. If Regina got her hands on Belle again he was liable to do something he regretted. The only thing that kept him from destroying her was his knowledge that it was _Emma_ who was going to defeat her, tear down this curse and cause Regina to lose at long last. That wouldn't happen if he took his personal anger out now. That didn't mean he had to be happy with it.

So he'd have to make sure Belle was safe. That was all.

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><p>Bridget entered the shop early, during her lunch break, feeling a bit giddy.<p>

"No allergies, I presume." Gold remarked dryly, gesturing to the small red rose that she had tucked behind her ear. The grin on his face ruining the casual tone.

"None at all." She said, grinning rather foolishly back. "Thank you."

He made a small bow, "My pleasure, dearie."

Laughing, she tried a curtsy, which ended up surprisingly smooth, like the gesture was practiced. Like this was something they always did. _Flirt_. She hoped it was, and something they would continue to do for sometime. ****

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><p>And it ended fluffy. Of course.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry for the break. This week is the most hectic hellish week ever. But here's more!

Enjoy!

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><p>"Broken porcelain is sharp, m'dear," Gold said dryly later that afternoon, holding a thin scrap of fabric against her bleeding forefinger. She'd been playing with the jagged edge of a shard of their teacup while talking with him when a particularly wicked smirk of his had caught her so off guard that her hand had slipped. Rather embarrassing, on top it being painful.<p>

"I know, I know," Bridget protested, trying to glare at him. If he thought she enjoyed his teasing he'd only do it more often. Then again she _did_ enjoy his teasing so that wasn't entirely a bad thing. Neither was having him hold her hand in his as he staunched the blood flow looking at her with an exasperated smile. She gave up and smiled back.

Shaking his head, he released her hand and stood in search of something to bandage it with. "You know," he added over his shoulder, "it's a very fitting thing that your name means _beauty_ and not _grace_. You'd hardly be doing it justice then."

"Ha ha," she called back sarcastically. "My name means beauty? I didn't know that." She'd never cared to know; she never much cared for her name, period. Eventually she'd actually start replying to '_Bridget_' right away, having to remind herself quickly that that was her name. She felt more at home with being '_dearie_'. She wondered if that was healthy.

Gold was silent and Bridget suddenly had a feeling she'd said something wrong. There were times when the most innocent of words or phrases would obviously trigger something painful in him and he'd go silent on her. It hurt her to know that there was pain in his life that she somehow kept reminding him of. She wished she could help, but all she could really do was hope she didn't say the wrong thing. That made her feel useless. Bridget _hated_ feeling useless.

"Besides," she said, when she could bear the silence no longer, "I could be very graceful, you know."

Thankfully, that did the trick. He returned, with a small bandage in hand, "I suppose you could be," he spoke absently, taking her hand again in order to bandage the small wound. Bridget would have protested that she could do it herself, but she felt a strange thrill in his touch. His hands were warm and had the rough texture of a man who worked with them a lot.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she realized she'd slightly spaced out. Withdrawing her hand she muttered a thank you, her face warm. He didn't press her, simply nodded and lapsed back into a much more comfortable silence, watching her as she returned her attention – most of it – to the piece that had cut her and it's place in their teacup. The rest of her thoughts were trained on how he looked at her, and the sadness that was still apparent in his eyes. And she wondered, not for the first time, if the pained silences she caused weren't so much by what she said as much as just… her.

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><p>Gold watched her work, struggling with his own thoughts. It was getting harder to treat Belle like any other Storybrooke citizen, just a girl who owed him. Even just to say he'd made friends with her was no longer believable. Especially when she looked at him the way she just had – a look he never thought he'd see on her face again, outside of his dreams.<p>

He wondered, not for the first time, if she might be safer if she _did_ get her memories back. She couldn't be used against him, not if she knew the whole truth. But then he knew that really it was only his desire to have her as Belle again, to have his proper second chance, and possibly get it right.

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><p>They're so precious. Really. Also, climax is coming soon. And thanks for your patience.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	14. Chapter 14

Hell week is practically done, so the _next_ update should come quicker!

Enjoy!

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><p>Emma and Mary-Margaret were clearly waiting for the other one to mention it.<p>

"So," Emma finally said, unable to take the silence much longer.

Bridget looked up from where she'd been reading, "So?"

"Where'd the rose come from?" She asked. Truthfully, she had a pretty clear idea but there was no harm in asking.

"Oh," the young woman's cheeks colored as she took the flower from where it had been tucked behind her ear. She stood, beginning to rummage through cupboards for a vase. After what was clearly an intentional pause, she simply said, "Mr. Gold keeps rose bushes," put the rose in it's vase, and sat back down to read.

_Oh my_, Mary-Margaret's look seemed to say as she and Emma exchanged glances. Yes, it was entirely what Emma had expected but that didn't make it any less interesting. At the same time it calmed some of her continuous worry about Bridget and Gold. The idea of roses and wooing were so entirely unlike the man involved that Emma couldn't help but assume that he had to have some feelings for her in return and wasn't simply using her.

Soon as Bridget moved to the far side of their living area to read by softer light, Mary-Margaret leaned in. "She's got it bad."

"_He's_ got it bad," she returned.

"You really think he loves her?"

Emma sighed as quietly as she could, "I don't know. You've know him longer – have _you_ ever seen him behave like this?"

Mary-Margaret paused, thinking. "Honestly, I've never seen him talk to anyone who he didn't… want something from, or had something they wanted from him…"

"Oh I'll bet he wants _something_ from her."

"_Emma!_" She gasped, quietly as she could. They both stole a glance at the woman in question, reading on a small chair, looking entirely oblivious. "Do you think anyone's told her about what happened with her father?" She asked in an altered tone.

"What Gold did to him? Judging by the state of things I'd guess not. I don't know if I'd want to…"

"What do you mean?"

"The girl just got released from a mental hospital. Yes, the place was horrible but I can't believe she'd be committed without reason. She didn't look so happy and healthy when I first met her. Whatever it is those two have, being around him has been helping her recover. I don't want to take that from her."

Mary-Margaret shook her head, smiling, "You sound like Henry, looking out for other people's happy endings."

"I doubt Henry wants Bridget's happy ending to be with Gold," Emma replied with a helpless giggle.

"Can I hear the joke?" Bridget called over, looking at them quizzically.

"Only that Henry might be jealous if he sees that new rose."

Bridget laughed, "Oh, I'm sure he will." She gave the rose a distant smile that showed her thoughts were elsewhere and Emma knew her words to Mary-Margaret were right. Bridget had found some sort of peace in his company, and Emma had no right to stop it.

* * *

><p><em>Do you think anyone's told her about what happened with her father?<em>

_What Gold did to him?_

Bridget had talked to her father all of twice since she'd torn herself free of that godforsaken cell. She assumed he'd committed her, but the way he'd treated her was more like she'd returned from the dead. He'd been overjoyed to see her safe, but in all her confusion Bridget continued to estrange herself from him.

All the same, the idea that Gold had some sort of history with him piqued her curiosity. Maybe it would explain what history she had with him.

There was no help for it. She'd have to ask him.

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><p>Well, now, that's gonna be interesting, don't you think?<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	15. Chapter 15

LONG update is long.

Enjoy!

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><p>She was putting away returns, at the end of her shift, when she was accosted yet again by the town's mayor.<p>

Bridget had never liked her. She hadn't liked her when she came to check on her in the ward. She had claimed, after much scandal that she'd been aware that the mental ward of the hospital was in need of reforms and she had been fully planning on doing so on her own time. After much glaring on both she and the sheriff's part, the matter was dropped on the condition that she, Bridget, saw Archie the therapist to be deemed safe and healthy.

Which she was, much to Mayor Regina's joy, so she _said_.

No, Bridget had never been fond of this woman who seemed all too knowing for comfort. The idea that Mr. Gold didn't seem entirely fond of her either only served to validate her feelings.

"Good evening, Regina," she said, polite as she possibly could. "Was there something you needed help with? I was just closing up – I need to stop by Grannie's and pick up dinner."

Regina smiled, "Do you? I was under the impression you went to Mr. Gold's shop straight from here."

Bridget felt her face heat up, realizing exactly what she had given away with that statement, along with the implication that everyone in this town knew about her hours spent in Mr. Gold's company. "Well, yes," she said, quiet but firm. No point denying it now.

"That's what I was hoping to speak to you about," the mayor replied, still grinning an unnerving smile. Bridget longed to shove her aside, but restrained it best she could. "You've been doing very well at disregarding my warning."

"What makes you say that? You simply told me to be careful."

"Yes, and you're affair with Mr. Gold is certainly being careful."

Bridget blushed, but set her jaw, "_Affair_? You don't honestly think we-"

"Oh, do continue playing the tragic innocent, child," Regina cut in. "Tell me the two of you are only friends and you have no deep and complex emotions in your sweet heart when I'm only trying to look after you."

"I really don't know what you're talking about and I really need to be going," she said, trying with all her might to hold in her temper, while marveling that the mayor could see exactly the kind of confusing feelings she'd had in regard to Gold. Not that she'd ever let her know she was right.

"He's a dangerous man, Ms. French. I don't know what mask he puts on around you but I assure you that's exactly what it is. He's not healthy company for someone in your state of mind."

Politeness dropped, Bridget positively glared at her. Books put away, she shoved past the woman and toward the door, meanwhile ranting, "My _state of mind_ is perfectly fine, as I'm sure you're aware."

"You're certainly giving me reason to doubt that, my dear."

She whirled on her, finally snapping, "My personal life says nothing about my mental health. If you're concerned I can talk to Archie again – but _you_ are in no position to have any say in _my_ life." She flung the library door open, "Now, if you please, Mayor Mills. We're closed."

To Bridget's frustration, Regina seemed to find this all terribly amusing. Shaking her head, she sauntered out the door. "I'm merely looking out for you, dear. I'd hate for any relapse. Or for you to end up in the same situation as your father. He told you about that, right?" _Her father or Mr. Gold?_ It didn't matter, the mayor was already leaving, "Enjoy your dinner."

* * *

><p>"I brought dinner." Belle said quietly upon entering and Gold instantly knew something was wrong.<p>

"What's happened?"

She blinked blue eyes at him, pulling an oblivious look that wouldn't fool a blind man. "Nothing. Now, come on. I'm hungry.

He shook his head, but followed her as she took her seat. The cup was planned to be finished that night, and they'd agreed to have dinner as celebration. "Dearie, I know you better than that."

She sighed, sounding entirely exasperated with him, but smiled all the same. "After dinner, please?" She begged. "It's really nothing."

He had a feeling it was a great deal more than nothing, but it was impossible to argue with her. _Always had been. Always would be_. He sat beside her and smirked. "After dinner, then."

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><p>Oh Regina, I love to write you. Because I hate you so. so. much.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry for the wait again. This was a hard scene to write plus I'm on vacation. But starting at the ocean gives you time for inspiration. So here you are!

Enjoy!

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><p>"So," Gold said slowly after Belle lapsed into unaccustomed silence after their dinner was finished. "What did Regina have to say?"<p>

She dropped the final piece of teacup to stare at him in surprise. He smirked. The only reason Belle wouldn't tell him what was upsetting her would be because she was afraid it would upset him. And there was only one thing he knew she'd know would upset him. And that was Regina.  
>"Did she tell you to stay away from me again?"<p>

Belle paused briefly, "Well, yes. You're apparently unhealthy company and she's worried about a relapse."

"She's not going to take you back there, dearie. You need not worry about that," Gold told her seriously. She smiled at that but then looked down at her hands.

"That wasn't all she said," she said, quietly, "she mentioned something with my father…"

He went still, utterly still. He didn't know why he hadn't seen this coming but he hadn't. No more than he ever imagined speaking to Belle again, _period_.

Oblivious, Moe French's daughter went on, "and it wasn't just Regina. I… overheard Emma and Mary-Margaret talking, too. What happened?"

Internally, Gold was panicking. A lot of things had become clear when Belle had appeared in his life again. The main thing being that everything the Queen had told him about Belle after he'd sent her out was a lie. Her father had never touched her. For all he knew the man hadn't seen her until now. No, Mr. French was entirely innocent in both worlds, and, in blind fury, he'd nearly killed him.

Belle was watching him carefully, looking fully aware of his struggle to find words. She didn't press him, just waited. He longed, more than ever, for her to have her old memories; everything would be easier explained if she did. Yet, even then, there was no way to say it.

Finally, he stiffly said, "Mayor Regina framed your father for something he had no part in…taking something, something of great importance to me. It was, oh, ages ago but-" he broke off, unable to keep going.

"It still hurts?" Belle suggested, sounding entirely understanding in the way she always had been."So you… hurt him?"

Gold was silent. He wasn't sure he could speak anymore.

She sighed, finding the answer in his silence. "I suppose I understand why you wouldn't want to tell me that, and I can't say I'm happy to have learned it, but… you could at _least_ not treat me like a child."

She sounded so like herself, so un-traumatized, so exasperated with him that he nearly smiled. "You _are_ a child, dearie," he said at last.

"I'm twenty-two," Belle argued in good-natured frustration.

"I'm over twice your age."

They were both silent for a moment as they both contemplated the truth in that statement. After a second she shook her head, returning to the teacup. Placing the final piece in place, preparing to glue it in, she said softly, "Are you sorry?"

"What?"

"For what you did to my father. Are you sorry?"

He didn't hesitate a moment, "Yes." Yes, he was sorry he'd wasted his time going after the wrong person. He was sorry he couldn't kill Regina for what she had done to his Belle. He was sorry he was a coward, that he ever let her go. He was sorry, _more than she'd know_.

She nodded. "Well, alright then."

* * *

><p>Bridget glued in the last piece in silence, thinking over what she'd learned. Gold had hurt her father, but at the time he'd had reasons. She wondered what he thought her father had taken, that he'd been so violent. She wouldn't ask, though. He clearly didn't want to talk about the past.<p>

So she concentrated on the cup and found herself frowning. "Where is the rest?"

"The rest?" Gold asked.

"Of the cup. It's- it's missing a piece."

He studied the cup, currently sporting a small chip, with an expression that wrung her heart. Like fixing their teacup had broken _him_ somehow. Gently, he told her the cup had always been chipped. That's just how it was. That's what made it… _special_.

Bridget felt that that was a lie somehow and yet, looking at it she felt it was right this way. _Chipped_. She just wished she could help make it whole.

* * *

><p>I didn't want Bridget!Belle happy with him. But I couldn't see her being angry either. Her father's practically a stranger to her, she just had to know.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	17. Chapter 17

Stole my mom's laptop. That means more LONG updates! :D

Enjoy!

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><p>Bridget wasn't angry with him, though she probably should have been. No doubt Regina had expected the news to tear her apart, burst from the shop vowing never to have anything to do with the man but it did no such thing. That wasn't very normal, but neither was anything in regards to Gold. She'd grown accustomed to that.<p>

She realized he was watching her carefully and knew that he, too, expected the anger she miraculously didn't feel. Instead of trying to reassure him and only causing more uncomfortableness, she glanced at the now empty - well, mostly empty - bag from Granny's and said, "I, um, bought wine, too. Do you have glasses here?"

Gold looked startled for a moment, then his lips twitched into that crooked smile Bridget loved so much and everything felt right once more.

Moments later there they sat, a chipped teacup and a bottle of wine between them, in the dull light of the shop's back room. Bridget knew she should have been back at Mary-Margaret's quite some time ago, but at the moment she found she didn't care. Between drinks she told him all that the Mayor had said earlier, and he'd chuckled and congratulated her on basically throwing the formidable woman out the library door. Regina Mills was not someone to anger.

"I don't care," Bridget said. "I'm not going to let anyone decide my life but me." Gold's smile lost some of it's ease and Bridget internally flinched, wondering what she said _this_ time. Before he could speak she continued, "What I want to know is why my father never warned me about you? If _anyone_ was to tell me you were dangerous company, I'd think it'd be him."

That brought the smile back, though it was a bitter kind that did make him look fairly dangerous. "Oh, I'm sure he'd _like_ to. I suspect he's a bit apprehensive, not sure how I would react if he tried something else _precious_ away from me."

Bridget looked at him for a moment before she understood what he'd meant. She felt her face grow very warm, and laughed a little, "You're ridiculous."

He grinned, looking triumphant. She felt the urge to make a face at him. He was ridiculous sometimes; he could go from frightening to childish in a matter of seconds. He was entirely unpredictable, but Bridget found she loved even _that_ about him. It was that quality that made her feel at home with him, like they'd lived like this for longer than the month they had known one another.

She made the mistake of glancing at the clock then and cringed at the hour. Gold noticed and raised an eyebrow, "Your roommates are likely to be worried about you," he said, smirking.

"With good reason," she returned, understanding now why Emma had worried about her spending time with Gold.

He chuckled and stood as she did, as always, and helped her gather her things. "I'll miss you're visits, dearie," he added, his voice playful but Bridget felt hurt by that.

"You don't expect me to come back?" She asked, quietly, pausing at the door to look at him. It was darker in there, the shop long closed, but she could still see his expression - and once more realized she'd said something wrong. Without thinking she stepped nearer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder, wishing to release what pain she'd caused somehow. He was still; he scarcely seemed to be breathing."I didn't come for the teacup, not _always_," she tried to explain. "After all, it's just a cup."

"It's not."

Of course it wasn't. The second he said it Bridget felt he had confirmed something she had always knew. Stepping closer still she asked the first thing that popped into her mind. "It was the cup, wasn't it? That my father took?"

Gold watched her face closely, and Bridget was suddenly aware of how close they were. Coming to an apparent conclusion he barely nodded, "In a sense."

Bridget was vaguely thinking she ought to ask '_what sense_' before all thought left her as Gold leaned down the few inches between them and kissed her mouth.

* * *

><p>She was stiff, surprised, but only for a second before she released into his embrace.<p>

Gold never thought he'd feel Belle's kiss again, even when she'd returned to his life. He wasn't sure what possessed him to kiss her now, but during the moments it lasted he didn't care, losing himself in her.

Reluctantly, _very_ reluctantly pulling away he watched her carefully. She opened her eyes slowly, looking rather dazed. He couldn't wait for any recognition to show in those beautiful eyes. He had to know.

"...Belle?"

* * *

><p>Well, hey. Kisses. How about that. :p<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	18. Chapter 18

People wanted an update today? Who am I to let you down!

Enjoy!

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><p>Bridget felt very peculiar. She felt warm and cold and dizzy and happy and very very sad all at once.<p>

And she very much wanted to kiss him again.

But Gold was looking at her in a way that made her feel just as strange as his kiss had, like he was waiting for something that just wasn't happening. Her eyebrows drew together as she tried to recall what he had just said.

_Belle_, he had said. _Belle_, as though it were her name. _Was it?_ It definitely was not the first time he had called her by it, though she could not specifically remember the previous times.

She was feeling very dizzy now, enough for her to know it wasn't just the effects of being kissed.

"Are you alright?" Gold asked suddenly. Despite the concern in his voice, he was stiff. Remote. Closed off. Looking at her as he would a stranger, not as one would look at his love or a woman he'd just embraced.

Unable to bear him looking at her that way, and unable to comprehend why he was, Bridget looked at her feet, which made her even more unsteady. He was giving her _that_ feeling again, when he looked like that. That feeling that she was incomplete somehow. She wasn't _whole_.

And somehow then she knew that it meant he couldn't be with her. Not how she suddenly knew she wanted to be with him... how she always wanted to be with him.

"I'm fine. Just a little light-headed," she said, and it wasn't really a lie.

"Are you sure?" Gold asked slowly, still seeming to wait for something. Something she clearly could not give him.

Heart aching, she nodded and tried to smile. "Yeah. I'll just head, um, back to Mary-Margaret's now."

His expression didn't change. He looked utterly frozen. Bridget realized she wanted him to stop her for once. She wanted him to kiss her again. She had felt whole when he'd kissed her. She wondered how one man could make her feel so complete and so broken at the same time.

She finally understood why being with him might be unhealthy. She needed to go, if only to gather her thoughts.

But she didn't want to leave him.

Which was _exactly_ why she needed to. "I'm glad I could help, with the cup," she said quietly, stealing herself so no emotion came through as she looked him in the eye one more time.

She adjusted the strap of her bag, and left without another word, head aching about as bad as her heart.

* * *

><p>Gold watched her ago, feeling about as wretched as she looked. The entire scene was so reminiscent of his last sight of her in their other world that it proceeded to tear at what little of his heart he had left.<p>

She didn't remember. Of course she didn't. It had been a child's hope, foolish, to ever believe he could restore her memories with a kiss. Yes, it had hurt when she did not remember but in his pain and fear he had made it all so much worse. He would not get Belle back and now he had lost Bridget as well. He wouldn't be able to keep her safe in this world, not now. He'd ruined what chance he'd had at happiness. _Again_. Because this woman made him so afraid.

He looked into the other room, a bottle of wine still there and, in the center of the room, the cup. _Their_ cup.

_All you'll have is an empty heart, and a chipped cup_.

Again.

* * *

><p>You didn't expect it to be that easy, did you, dearies? Oh no! Don't worry, though. Their story isn't over yet!<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	19. Chapter 19

So shit just got real.

Enjoy!

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><p>Emma had suspected long ago that Bridget's relationship with Mr. Gold would hurt her somehow. And it appeared her worry had been completely well founded.<p>

She just didn't expect that hurt to be a broken heart.

However, it was clear, watching Bridget stare at the same page of her book since she had returned, that _that_ was exactly what she was suffering from. Bridget was more composed than Mary-Margaret, but Emma could recognize that expression anywhere.

On top of her change in demeanor, Bridget had gotten home much later than she ever did from her evenings with Mr. Gold. Mary-Margaret had gone to bed a good half hour earlier with a promise from Emma that she would question Bridget about just what kept her out until the morning where she could be present.

Emma didn't think she could be blamed if she disregarded that promise right then.

Setting a cup of tea down in front of the still silent young woman, she was successful in jolting her out of her thoughts. Bridget blinked a few times, as though trying to remember exactly where she was, then gave Emma an abashed smile.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

"No problem. Now, what's up?" Emma said, matter-of-factly. She wasn't going to let Bridget beat around _this_ bush.

"_What's up_ is I'm crazy," Bridget said with a bitter smile.

Emma blinked, surprised. "Bridg, you saw Archie. You're fine."

"I don't _feel_ fine. I feel… I just feel wrong here. I don't know-"

"Bridg, what's this got to do with Gold?" She cut in, unable to stop herself. When the girl opened her mouth to argue Emma cut her off again. "I'm not saying your health worries are nothing, but you can't tell me the hopeless look you've been giving the book since you got home has anything to do with your mental health. I've known you long enough for that."

Bridget bit her lip, clearly thinking over what to say. "He _makes_ me feel crazy."

Emma blinked again. That was a bit on the vague side. Feeling crazy was a typical symptom of being in love as far as she knew, but from a girl out of a mental hospital she was pretty sure Bridget's feeling 'crazy' was different than the typical infatuated child. And that didn't explain why she was so heartbroken _now_.

"Did he… do something to you?" She asked carefully.

She looked a little startled, "No- I mean, well, he kissed me-"

_Oh._ Emma couldn't help the look of surprise on her face but she only hoped it covered up the feeling of… _gross_. It was one thing that Bridget was very much in love, but _that_ was an image she could have happily done without.

Now a little flushed, Bridget continued, "It's more… how he looks at me. It used to be rare, but I get the feeling more and more that he _knew_ me. Before the hospital, before all that. He's the only one who seems to _know_ who I was. And when he looks at me, he looks at me like I'm missing something. Some part of who I used to be-"

She looked back at her book, paging through it absently, like she needed something to do. "And I _feel_ like I'm missing something. I feel incomplete. And- And I know, I just know, he's not going to- to _allow_ himself to love me until I'm whole. And-" She took a deep breath, "and I don't know if I ever will be."

Emma watched as she took a large gulp of tea and seemed to compose herself. She was confused and hurt and Henry would probably have a field day telling her that her incomplete feelings had to do with the curse… but Emma could see that she just needed some peace, some closure. And she was pretty sure if all she could think about was Gold looking at her like a broken piece of merchandise she wasn't going to get that.

"Bridg, maybe it's best you not see Gold for a while. See if that clears your thoughts some. I mean, what_ is_ it you're helping him with, anyways?"

"It's- I broke something of his. I was- was helping him fix it. It was just a- a cup, really."

"Does it have… flowers on it?"

Bridget looked up, startled, "Yes. How did you…?"

Standing, Emma searched the drawers of the counter, pulling out a small piece of milky porcelain with a corner of blue flower on one edge. "Found this a couple days after you came, you must have brought a piece home with you." She handed it over.

Bridget was staring at the shard with a look of utter bafflement, "But- but he said- it's- it's chipped," she seemed to be talking to herself. Her expression going vague she turned the chip over in her fingers then bringing it, absently to her lips.

And then with a mix between a gasp and a cry, dropped it on the table as both hands went to her head.

"Bridg?" Emma asked, suddenly very much worried about the girl's health. "You okay?"

Bridget blinked rapidly, rubbing her forehead. "Y-Yeah, yeah. I- I just- I'm really dizzy. I think I might- might lie down." She sounded different, Emma thought, but she couldn't place how.

Still concerned, she nodded, "Alright. Just, um, get some sleep, yeah." Bridget nodded, absently, ending one of the stranger conversations she'd had since coming to this town. And _that_ was saying something.

* * *

><p>She felt dizzy. But it was a different kind of dizzy. The sort of dizzy felt just as everything has stopped spinning and adjusting to the sudden clarity of the world. The sudden clarity in her mind.<p>

Somehow she thought this should be making her feel more insane, all the images that flashed through her mind when she'd kissed that chip of porcelain. But, in truth, the images she saw were the only things that made sense.

Because she was sure, somehow she just _knew_, those images weren't hallucinations. They were _memories._

* * *

><p>Well, would you look at that.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	20. Chapter 20

Flashback post is full of flashbacks! (_AKA Bridget getting her memories_)

Enjoy!

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><p>She had kept the chip, from the moment she broke it.<p>

Originally, she kept it because she planned to fix it. While, to her immense relief, her employer had not been at all angry about the chip, she still felt guilty for her own clumsiness. She'd never exactly been a picture of grace.

It was a week after her breaking it, a week after she'd come to live with him, that she decided to try and put it back together. Holding the shard in its place in the cup she wondered what on earth she could use to adhere it.

"Dearie," his voice startled her. "What are you doing?" He was watching her with a puzzled frown. She had planned it so he wouldn't be there, but it appeared the man did not have as much of a schedule as she had hoped.

So, she lifted her chin and said, "I'm fixing it," and gestured to the chipped cup among its unbroken brethren.

He clucked his tongue at her, as though chiding a small child, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "And you don't think that, if I wanted it fixed, I wouldn't have just… _fixed_ it." He made a small gesture with his left hand and before her eyes the piece fit itself into place and sealed on it's own accord, leaving it entirely unblemished. "What's the point in magic if it's not _practical_," he teased, his voice going a pitch higher on the last word, leading into one of his characteristic giggles. She found the sound more amusing than frightening.

With another gesture the cup cracked again in precisely the same spot, and the chip went tumbling into the center of the cup.

She watched it all with fascination. "But, if you can do that why don't you-"

He shook his head, seeming suddenly impatient with her. "If I'm not mistaken, dearie, you have another floor to dust," He said, not unkindly. "Never mind silly teacups."

And so she went.

She took the chip back later that afternoon.

* * *

><p>She didn't know why she kept it after that. She just did. She kept it in her room until he gave her a more practical dress – with the one crowning glory that was <em>pockets<em>. From then on the chip of teacup was always in her right pocket, secured.

She decided it'd be her good luck charm, of a sort. Even if had been born of one of her clumsier moments.

* * *

><p>He chose to drink from the chipped cup, always.<p>

"There's three perfectly good ones you could use," she complained, one afternoon. "Or is this your way of continuously reminding me of my foolishness." It was two months into their acquaintance and what little fear she'd had of him had disappeared almost entirely. She could speak to him more matter-of-factly than she could with anyone from her life as a princess. He seemed to find it amusing, especially if it meant she was irritated. He liked playing with her, and she was beginning to like being played with. Though she'd never admit to that.

"Nonsense," he said cheerfully. "It's the broken things that have the most character, my dear."

She looked at him carefully, as she did whenever he alluded to broken things. She knew, instinctively, that he was referring to himself. No matter how off-hand the reference, or cheerful his demeanor, she could see it in his eyes. She quickly learned how to read the most unreadable man in all the realm. And the story it told was one of tragedy, not wickedness.

She fingered the chip in her pocket, and spoke casually, "Well, let me know how much you like it's _character_ when you cut yourself on it."

He smirked at her irritation, and she found herself smiling back in profound exasperation.

* * *

><p>She kept it when he shut her out. When he'd felt tricked, and frightened, and did the only thing he knew – pushed her away. She was angry, yes, but she didn't believe for a second that he didn't want her. It was the fact that he <em>did<em> want her that he had felt he needed to keep her out of his life.

She kept the chip because she loved him, and she didn't want to forget that, not ever. She was angry with him for his cowardice, but that could not erase her feelings.

She wouldn't return to him. She had said her part. If her truly wanted her back, he would have to find her. He was the most powerful man in all the realm; if he wanted to find her, she had no doubt that he would.

So she traveled, like she'd dreamed of doing. Though, seeing the world felt rather empty when she was alone. She was accustomed to loneliness in her life, but on the worst of days she found she was thankful for the comforting weight of a small piece of porcelain that she kept always on her person.

Months, years, passed and he did not come for her. She wondered if he was not so good at tracking as she thought, or if she had reached past the boundaries of his sight. She didn't think, not for a moment, that he wasn't looking. She knew him too well for that.

* * *

><p>The darkness came when she decided she might try to look for him. Came crashing through the trees and knocking her unconscious.<p>

When she awoke she was in a cell, dizzy, lost.

With a chip from a teacup sewn into a pocket of her hospital gown.

* * *

><p>Well, would you look at that. <em>Again<em>.

(I kept the pronouns how they are because right now she's not thinking as Bridget but not quite as Belle either)

Reviews = love. Always.


	21. Chapter 21

Sorry for the wait. Just a bit of writer's block. Things _are_ getting a bit complex here.

Enjoy!

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><p>Belle didn't sleep that night. She stared at the ceiling in the bedroom she had been given and tried to come to terms with her new understanding of the world. She fingered the teacup shard absently, head aching as countless memories flooded and fell into their proper places. Places that had been emptiness only hours before.<p>

The curse, Henry's curse, it was true. They, everyone save he and his mother, were trapped here. Trapped without any knowledge of where they had been. Belle, specifically, had been transported directly into her cell. There was no need to give her fake memories of a Storybrooke life the Queen never expected her to see. If she did remember her life as Belle she would be safely locked away and considered insane anyways.

It was a brilliant plan, but she had underestimated both Belle's intelligence and her strength of will. She had still known something was wrong. Frightened and certain of her sanity, she had broken out and, driven by unconscious knowledge, ran to the last person Regina wanted her to go to. Rumpelstliltskin.

_He remembers_, Belle thought, unsure if the thought should make her delighted or miserable. He simply had to remember, it was the only reason he would have looked at her as though she wasn't whole. She _hadn't_ been whole. She'd been this Bridget. This plain girl with no memory of all their history. The only thing she had retained was her love, and without previous memories to explain the emotion, she had only been more confused around him.

It must have killed him, every day, to have her there but _not_ there. To have her call him _Mr. Gold_ – She was suddenly _very_ glad that he had never called her Bridget. She hoped he never did. – to have her completely unaware of what they had had, and what they had lost.

What was she supposed to do, now, though? That was what plagued her all through that night. It wasn't as though she could tell anyone else; she'd be locked up on the spot. And any change in her demeanor could easily make its way back to Regina. She'd have to talk to Gold, to Rumpel, alone, then. But she had no idea what to say.

She had told him, so long ago, that he would regret sending her away. And regret it he clearly had; there were no words needed to express _that_ emotion in his eyes. There were many things that needed to be mended between them, but now they could speak freely. Now, perhaps, he would listen. And if he didn't, well, she wasn't going to be sent away again. Let him do his worse. She knew him too well, and had seen firsthand how losing her had further destroyed him. There was _nothing_ he could say to her to make her leave now.

"Bridg?" Mary-Margaret asked. Belle was vaguely aware that night had transitioned to morning. She was too exhausted and her head felt like a hundred different kinds of hell and she didn't remember to respond to her Storybrooke name until the woman poked her head in the door, worriedly. "Bridget?"

"Hm? Yeah?" She asked, a bit groggily. She sat up and studied the woman. Indeed, she was Snow White. Now that she remembered the wanted posters it was easy to recognize her. The innocent girl-child who had incurred Queen Regina's wrath. Belle remembered the talk she caught around her travels; there had been a poisoning, an awakening and a wedding. A true happy ending. Belle had envied her.

"Bridg?" Mary-Margaret-_Snow_ asked again, and Belle realized she'd been ignoring her.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, trying to smile normally at the most famous princess in all her old world. My, this was a strange situation. "What were you saying?"

"If you wanted tea, but now I can see you definitely do. What time did you get in last night?"

Last night. _Oh_, the kiss. The kiss and the way he had said her name, for the first time. And she hadn't remembered him. Oh, dear. "I- I don't remember. Um, I talked to Emma about it."

She nodded, her smile gentle, "I heard. Come on, let's get you some tea. What do you say you take the day off from the library, you don't look well."

Belle hid a cringe. She had to be _Bridget_, here. She had to stay safe, if anything for Rumpel's sake. If she were locked away again, she didn't know what he would do. Whatever he _could_ do, most likely, and he could do _anything_.

So she gave Mary-Margaret a tired smile, "Really? I am a bit tired, but the library always makes me feel better," – and that wasn't a lie – "I'll take the tea, though."

The woman accepted that, it seemed. "I'll heat some water then," she said, and left. Leaving Belle to sigh deeply.

* * *

><p>Emma watched Bridget sipping her tea, somewhat devoid of expression, seeming deeply lost in thought.<p>

"You _sure_ everything is alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Everything is fine," she said. Emma still thought she sounded different. A little stronger, a little more assured, a little less like a quiet, complacent little librarian. She made a face and added, "Well, my head hurts – we don't have anything for that here, do we?"

She blinked. "Yeah, I've got Advil." She got up to get her some.

Meanwhile, Mary-Margaret added, "I agree with Emma, though, Bridg. No matter how you feel, you probably shouldn't be around Gold for a while."

Bridget's lips actually quirked into a small smile at that, as though her friend had referenced a private joke only she knew. All she said was "I doubt he'll be trying to see me anytime soon," in a quiet, emotionless voice, and continued drinking her tea, seemingly oblivious to the baffled looks of her companions.

* * *

><p>Belle is Belle again. A bit lost still, but that means a lot of questions for Rumpels! ;)<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	22. Chapter 22

So, we is has hiatus of death. So I'll write more to make up for it.

Enjoy!

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><p>Gold wanted to avoid her, coward that he was. He was very much convinced that Belle would want nothing to do with him for a while yet, and there wasn't much he could do about that. He could usually talk himself out of any situation. Except with her. She was so entirely unpredictable; she made him lose all wit and well-planned replies. She made him speechless.<p>

But he was desperate to keep her safe. With Regina's threats both to he and Belle, it was clear if she did anything even _remotely_ suspect she could be institutionalized once more. And if that happened, he would very easily kill Regina – and that would be rather… inconvenient to all of his plans.

It was convincing himself it was for those plans that he went to see her two days later. He _had_ to be sure she was alright – even if alright meant that she wanted nothing to do with him any longer.

She was working at the library, of course. She had told him once it felt like a refuge to her. In fact, she had told him that about the library in his castle, as well, when he once teased her about cleaning the library a bit more often than the rest of the spacious estate.

"I've always liked to read," she had admitted absently, "ever since I was a little girl. Books make the best of friends." He hadn't known what to say to that, but she didn't expect a reply. Simply put away the books she had been organizing and told him she would return to dusting the second floor if he wished.

"Mr. Gold," Belle's voice greeted him, sounding rather surprised. "Is there something that you need?"

He recovered quickly from the strength of the memory and seeing her looking especially like her old-world self. "No, no. Simply returning this." He handed over the book she had brought to his shop some weeks ago, which she would read when taking breaks from fixing their cup. She never took it with her, knowing she'd be there the next day. Its presence in the shop was a constant reminder or her presence in his life once again.

Belle bit her lip, seeming to understand what giving it back said about their relationship. "You know, I would have gone to get it," she said.

"I saved you the trip."

"Well, thank you for that, then." She returned to chewing on her lip, and glanced around her instinctively, as if suddenly their relationship was a secret in this small a town. She looked ready to speak once more when they were interrupted.

"Miss. French, I'm sorry – are you busy?" A young girl with long blonde hair asked. Ava Zimmer, Gretel, the child Gold had helped the sheriff reunite with her father.

"Well-"

"Nonsense. I was just leaving," he cut in, needing to retreat. Whatever it was Belle had been about to say, he doubted it was going to have been pleasant to his current state of mind.

Belle looked startled but didn't argue, "Can I help you, Ava?"

"We're doing reports for school. Can I interview you, please?"

She laughed a little, "Of course."

As Gold turned toward the door, the child continued her questions. "Why did you want to be a librarian?"

Another soft laugh. "Well, I've always liked books," there was a fraction of a pause just as Gold reached the entrance, "ever since I was a little girl."

He froze.

Seemingly oblivious, Belle continued in a voice pitched just loud enough to carry to his ears, "I didn't have very many friends growing up, so I had books to keep me company. Books make the best of friends."

"Do you have a favorite book?"

"Oh, that's hard. I suppose I always liked… adventures. I read those books and I dreamt of seeing the world. _Being a hero_."

Gold struggled to breathe, grasping his cane tight. _She remembered_.

She remembered and she was absolutely _out of her mind_.

* * *

><p>Belle was trying not to laugh, seeing him frozen at the entry to the library. The rest of her was simply overjoyed that it had worked. It had been an insane idea; she was acting on it before she'd even thought it through.<p>

Ava was continuing her questions completely unaware of how grateful Belle was for her little interview. She was about ready comment that she liked the story of Rumpelstiltskin just to further underscore her point when he spoke out shortly.

"Miss French, might I have a word?"

Well, this was what she wanted. She thanked Ava for the interview and quickly moved to wear Gold hadn't budged. She knew this was a talk they needed to have.

But seeing the cold, stony expression on his face, Belle realized _that_ talk might not be today.

* * *

><p>A bit of a cliff. Don't worry, it'll be explained. :P<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	23. Chapter 23

Sorry for the wait. This was written and re-written a hundred different ways. It was hard.

Enjoy!

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><p>"My dear, have you lost your mind entirely?"<p>

"That's a fine thing to say to an ex-mental patient."

It was evening and they were at his home. Gold knew he couldn't have the conversation he needed to in the middle of the library in broad daylight. _Anywhere_ but there, honestly. So when she all too innocently suggested finishing this conversation at his house he'd agreed. Anything so that he could leave sooner.

Now, Belle was leaning against the island in his cluttered, mostly unused kitchen watching him make tea. _Far too casual_. He was sincerely tempted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she understood him.

"That would explain it," he said dryly.

"Explain what? What exactly did I do wrong?" She asked, suddenly impatient.

He turned to her, "One would think, Miss Ex-mental patient, that you would know not to simply spout your life as a princess for the world to hear."

She looked positively shocked. Had she really not understood how dangerous that had been for her? "I said nothing about-"

"You said _enough_. Dear Queenie didn't give you a storybrooke life. If you're talking about your childhood… well, she's not daft."

"And you think a ten year old girl is, what, an informer?" She asked with something between exasperation and scorn.

He sighed, trying to be patient with her. "Do you not think she doesn't have ears in her town? Obviously, unless you were purposely trying to out yourself for her-"

"It wasn't for her," Belle finally cut in, her voice hard, clearly having endured enough commentary on her actions. "It was for _you_ and you know that. I had to get your attention somehow."

"And that was the only way you could think of doing that, dearie?" He asked, stiffly.

"When you were clearly trying to have no part in my life, yes. Yes, it was," she said. She set her teacup down in frustration, "So, then, would you rather I had no memories at all?"

"Yes," Gold lied without pause.

Belle was unperturbed. She took a step closer, so they were nearly toe-to-toe. "You're no better a liar than you ever were," she told him, coolly. "In fact, I think you're worse."

He kept himself expressionless, "You were safe from her before."

"Oh, I wasn't safe from anything," she said. "No more than I am, now. Alright, I realize what I did was dangerous, and I apologize. But do not even try to tell me that you aren't happy I remember you, _Rumpelstiltskin_."

He felt himself flinch. _Damn_. But it was that _name_, the name he had heard less than a handful of times in twenty-eight years and never dreamed of hearing it in her voice again. And she was completely right, of course.

All calm and collectiveness of his Storybrooke persona felt stripped away, along with any cool organized reply. So Gold heard himself distantly fall back on a phrase uttered a lifetime ago.

"I'm not _un_happy."

The words came out in a mix of a whisper and a croak. And yet that was all it took for her lips to twitch in amusement and exasperated affection. As if, for that moment, that was all he had needed to say to absolve everything he had done to her. It didn't, of course. But right then, for that moment, it was all she had needed.

Belle watched his face carefully, her smile absently fading as she did so. By the time he fully comprehended the situation she was already kissing him.

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><p>The words did not absolve him from everything. Nor did it excuse him from the questions Belle fully intended to ask him. But just hearing that same grudging admittance from him, that he knew her. That he <em>loved<em> her. No further words or gestures would have said it better.

"I _am_ sorry," Belle said quietly, after the – particularly short – kiss had ended. She had realized, instantly after Gold had spoke, how much danger she could have put herself in, just because she'd wanted him to know.

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. "I'll simply have to keep saving you from yourself, dearie."

She felt herself smiling. "That might be a full time job."

Slowly a smirk lit up his tired features, making him look a bit like Rumpelstlitlskin and more than a little wicked. "Oh, dearie, that's _exactly_ what I hoped."

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><p>There is still more, of course. But not a lot. Just fyi.<p>

Reviews = love. Always.


	24. Chapter 24

FINALLY. XD Also, it's gonna get rather AU between this and oncoming episodes. But most Rumbelle fics are so I doubt you all mind. :)

Enjoy!

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><p>No one could know she knew.<p>

"Not even Henry?" Belle asked, thinking that it would be nice if he knew that someone believed him and had remembered their old life.

Gold shook his head, looking more amused than stern. "Especially not Henry. He's a clever child, but not exactly... subtle. It would be dangerous if her Majesty saw him trying to pull you into his..."

"Operation Cobra," she said, smiling inwardly at the affection in his tone when he spoke about the boy who clearly reminded him of his own son. It was a shame Henry's book did not have Rumpelstiltskin's whole story, and that by not knowing, Henry feared him.

His eyebrows raised comically at the code name the 10-year-old had come up with. The expression was so close to his other self that Belle couldn't help but giggle.

They were sitting in what she supposed was a dining room, both perched on the table. She'd had to clear it off a bit first - clearly he needed a care-taker in this life too. He'd demanded she tell him all that had happened to her after she had been sent away. She demanded he tell her exactly what had happened with his son, and everything he knew about this curse, which was a great deal more than Henry had told her. Then again, she'd never really asked him about it.

Sipping her third cup of tea, she asked, "Twenty-eight years, then... How many years _has_ it been?"

Another eyebrow quirk, and Belle realized she'd said something rather silly. "Twenty-eight," he said, pointedly.

"Ah... Emma. Right." In her defense, only two days ago this curse had been nothing more than a silly story.

"Emma."

"That explains Henry's knowledge."

Gold chuckled, "Clever prince, he is." Belle laughed.

They'd been conversing for hours, comparing their notes. Belle knew Emma and Mary-Margaret would not be happy that she was here, but she'd have to say they'd made up... somehow.

Gold wanted her to be more careful than that.

"Suddenly avoiding you would be more suspicious than continuing to see you," she argued. When he so much as looked ready to argue she spoke over him. "Regina already thinks '_Bridget_' is having an affair with you."

She was absurdly pleased with his visible uncomfortableness with the idea of an affair. "That said, dearie, I'm certain Queenie was simply trying to get Bridget nettled with that comment."

"I don't care. Bridget fell in love with you before I remembered myself - so it's not _entirely_ unbelievable."

He flinched at the word 'love'. "More so than you'd think," he said stiffly. Belle hid a sigh. Even now, with all their cards on the table, Gold seemed incapable of believing that she had ever loved him -_still_ loved him. True love's kiss be damned.

She slid of the table, "If you want I'll go, now. But I'm not going to avoid seeing you - if I have to break a dozen things in your shop tomorrow to increase my 'debt', so be it."

He actually giggled, his Rumpelstiltskin giggle, completely out of place with his current appearance. It was short, a little quieter, but still made her laugh in return. "I'm sure I can figure _something_ out," he finally said.

"No doubt, you can," Belle said, still grinning.

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><p>Emma wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, but the look on her face prevented it.<p>

"Why'd you go?" She asked instead, seriously.

Bridget sighed, "It was my idea. I realized our whole problem was, well, something of a misunderstanding. It's alright now."

Emma tried not to groan. But Bridget looked... happy. Healthier, too, in some way that she couldn't put her finger on. "Bridg, I- just... be careful, alright?"

"That's what Regina told me," she replied pointedly. "Don't start telling me he's 'unhealthy' for me now, too."

"No! Bridg, I'm not trying to- If you're happy with him, great! But how you were behaving just a few days ago- I mean, that _wasn't_ healthy."

Bridget chuckled a little, "Fair enough, Emma, I do agree. I wasn't... myself, earlier." Her lips twitched at some joke Emma didn't get and for the first time Emma truly wondered if Bridget might be a bit... off.

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><p>Some fluff. Some explanations. And some confused Emma. What else is new?<p>

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